


The Bees of Hidehaven

by ARandomRock



Category: Original Work
Genre: Allegorical, Bees, Body Horror, Gen, bee stings, body injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 13:53:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21300512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ARandomRock/pseuds/ARandomRock
Summary: A short tale about being nice to bees and what happens to those who aren't.Made for Spooky and Spice Zine.
Kudos: 1
Collections: Pluto's Zine Works





	The Bees of Hidehaven

**Author's Note:**

> Made for: https://twitter.com/spookyspicezine

A crack, a stab. A buzz of bees in panic.  
A thump as a half-foot of hive hit the ground and cracks ran up the elegant layers. Golden bleed surrounded by panicked black spots leaked out.  
Another stab. A javelin. Left in there, at least this time plugging the wound.  
Away from the thickening cloud of buzzing, panicked pats of feet sounded across the golden leaves, which contrasted with happy and carefree laughter coming from the teen. Dirt still palmed around their hands from the arsenal of sticks.  
Every week in the glistening golden light through the forest the intruder would come. Their colours were different to the bees. Sometimes the intruder wore white of peonies and would flick the odd young worker off his white “petals”. The intruder would come dressed in the colours of flowers but wield the powers of the earth. What the birds would peck from the floor would be instruments of his destruction. Sometimes a fist for of stones would be pelted, pulling apart the comb and leaking golden blood onto the floor. Sometimes, he’d come with glistening stone-like tools that the bees did not understand. He would not stop until there was a nest on the floor and the scent of golden dew would call down flocks of birds from the sky.  
The workers that would remain, and sometimes even the queen, would go around again. Numbers taken down the minimum, but the war cycle would continue on.  
This had repeated until near the end of the season, where greens had turned orange and leaves had begun to coat the bottom in a mattress of interlocking dying leaves. Miles away from the nest, a forger was buzzing with extreme panic, antennas twirling and vibrating as hard as possible. Pollen shedding from his feet from the harsh movement.  
Warning! Warning! There is a bird approaching! It’s not a big one, but it is the colour of peonies and is holding a giant bit of the earth.The bee alerted the nest and preemptive swarming had already begun as through the comes panic had spread up and down.  
“Oh...mummy says….”  
The medium sized bird stares up at the hive before wanting off, swinging around a brown bear before chirping of through the forest.  
The workers gave a curious push towards the escaping girl but quickly pulled back as the Queen demanded thickness to the paper of the hives. This entire event rotated, yet for that week the big intruder never came and despite the thickness of the paper of hive causing some damage to eggs inside, the armor was survived another week.  
The intruder did come once more though, but the steps were not heard by the swarm this time. Erratic, broken, with gaps in between. Silence per twig snap and leaf crunch. Steps not approaching but in disjointed pathways trying to find its destination. Dressed in no peonies but stained stoned. Gave off such a sweet smell that the odd forger out there had stumbled around thinking here was something new in the woods. Yet only when the half handed swat of the bird alerted a forger who managed to just fly away before giving his life to the cause was the hive alerted. He stumbled along kicking stuff across the floor. Puffs of leaves spread dirt and pollen up, pushing the dust to irritate the insects.  
“You bastards scared my daughter!”  
The words of the birds were nothing but vibrations and a spicy scent to the bees who began to crawl out the paper black clouds in rigorous, evolved formations built up over and over again of trial and error rallied. Yet, all the intruder did was slap the angry brown shape at the bees and their nest. What they braced for was a dirt or hard, but it was soft and just swung the nest about and pushed the bees around. They bumped the bees about and put the swamps off their formations but the nest still swung happily. Trying to attack and swarm the flailing bird and its brown soft weapon. The intruder for once came with pimples and marks down his pinkish arms and was driven back but not without damage to the cause. Once again the news was on the floor, but now crushed by the soft brown thing broken, beaten and discarded. Yet the comb itself was generally secure and the queen retained most of the eggs that survived the fall. Working round with martial was from the discarded item. Chunks of fluff plugged up the small chunks of comb raked off and the bleeding was stifled. Finally a battle in the war that was turning the other favor.  
Yet, in their rebuilding moments when eggs began to dry out, there was a panicked forger climbing over the dead corpses of those who gave their lives to attack the big bird, who sensed another quiet bird. Once again the peony coloured bird had walked gently. Bare even snapping the leaves with lilac-coloured feet. She stood over the nest, deterred over the black swarm sitting over the top.  
“Fan~ny! Missed yo~u!”  
The white bird reached for the nest, but to the object outside. Even with eggs slightly on the side, she had pulled it up and grasped it tightly. Sticky golden blood still hang off the side and wild bees arranged had become flooding around her.  
“Sor-ry bee bees!”  
Putting the toy down for a second, the mini bird pick up the nest. Thick goo, dirt and leaves fell down her arms as she reached up, posing the lump at the broken off come on the walls. Poking at it trying to jam it. Arranged bees began to curl around their arms and quickly the right up fell in a pit of screams. Wild thick swarms, even now more awoken by the thump and further crack of the hive. Pitch black battle lines of kamikaze warriors pieces through her arms and curled onto her face. The screams and colours of her mouth, the pure bright red invited another fat army of adult warriors, desperately to make up for their slowing down as forgers struck into her mouth.  
Piercing soft good of the tongue, scraping what they good off the top layer of cells, anything they could fall back into their nest with. The medium bird fell out with water streaming down her face and the honey over arms caught her legs and feet stumbled over the very thing she tried to rescue. With the hive now going to die, there was nice worth in withdrawing, the bees struck out and coated her body until silence fell on the forest. The last Queen crawled on top of the nest. Bodies of black spots lay all around her. Thick drips of golden honey splattered over shrapnel of honeycomb. The stress of the sight made the queen, one of the only queens, rise from the eggs up to the top of the broken honey comb still on the tree and never come out of the broken comb. This was the death of a colony, the death of and eventually the end of a war. Maggots and feeders crawled across the bottom. Humans and their interferences coated the bottom and scraped away the corpse of the bees' legacy into the bottom of a compost bin. The flowers with dew through the winter and the emptiness of plants crawled away.The forest had retreated around this small flattened darkened tree, now devoid of evidence after the snow brushed away whatever was left.  
The spring however gave a new presence to the forest. Crawling through the pinks of the cherry leaves, through the little hole an insect began to spit a wax on the side. Already the size of the whole, but whose wings were still liquid soft enough that flight would mean certain death, began to wallpaper a home. The hole left in the tree dug all the way and carved out a small tube where the tree was scraped the year before. Even so far to having a small exit at the back. All of this needed to be elegantly tiled and the first egg was laid.  
The Queen had gotten big enough now that she nested outside the tube housing cupped in the remains of the branches, weaved together with wax and pink petals. The workers began to overwhelm the tree thicker and thicker. The comb began to not take the shape that the year before had scene but had begun to snake around, thick from bottom to the top, the outside tunnels were being reflected in the outside comb. The queen, thicker and bigger with every cherry blossom that fell, commands a swarm thick enough that a stray dog walker could hear the buzzing without catching site of a single one of the forgers. She helped weave a great hive of pure gold that housed more and more eggs fit inside that even a Yellow Jacket nest would evacuate away.  
By the time sunflowers began to recreate around the tree from the forging of bees spraying thick pollen over the forest, the queen had grown too heavy for the top of the tree so now a fully-fledged sunflower was combed and attached, bit by bit onto the tree. The human tree whose life was being forcibly sucked away from it began to never regrow its leaves when the striking summer had reached the forest. Greenery had swept and corrupted all the rest of the wood but there, thick in the middle with the queen bee sitting there. A world of golden oranges stuck now forever. Pitch black spots were now the common place around the tree and soon even dog walkers began to ignore the depth of the woods.  
Yet there was one intruder who braved the rumours of the “bee wood”. He came bearing flowers with a washed up look. The bird dressed in how a black and yellow colour that matched the trees, the flowers were bright yellow sunflowers, barely alive from the store they were brought from. There he saw the tree, saw the face of the queen who's golden furred hand stretched out to him.  
As soon as the flesh toned pinky raised at him, several heads gnawed through out of the honeycomb in bursts. The swarm now so dense that it had blocked even the golden rays of light through the dead tree branches, coated the intruder’s face. Each bit of pink being painted black and gold, the shouts of the giant bird being drowned up in thick buzzing and the thumbs of those who gave their lives. The lose sunflowers had hit and unraveled their blue wrapping across the floor before being crushed by the stumbling falling boot of the intruder. Feathers of the giant bird were turned around as the arms groped in their air before slamming into the hollow tree. There the black swarms began to pin down the bird’s wings. By the time the furred and patterned queen closed her arm in, the tree had grown a second trunk. The trampled sun flowers were gifted and decorated her throne and there she sat ordering the colonies.  
There the forest overgrew with vibrant sunflowers that would rot away naturally.  
There the forest would be fed so vibrant that not even the hardiest of dog walkers would make the effort.  
There undeserved the family would live feeding back into her domain.  
There, finally, the family was reunited.


End file.
